


Oh, child of mine.

by Fendork



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Critical Role poem, I hardly ever write poetry but practise makes perfect, I’m very emotional guys, Mollymauk - Freeform, Mollymauk Poem, Mollymauk tealeaf - Freeform, Other, The Moonweaver, also there is definitely some widomauk in this because I couldn’t help myself, critical role - Freeform, spoilers for ep26
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 23:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15326976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fendork/pseuds/Fendork
Summary: Oh, my child,the bright and whimsical,my lost moonchild of the night...A little poem I wrote about Mollymauk because I’m an emotional wreck after ep26.





	Oh, child of mine.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted so badly to try to start a CR related story but I’ve been so busy lately that I’ve had hardly no time.
> 
> Then ep26 happened, and I knew I had to try to write something no matter how short!
> 
> The poem is pretty much in the perspective of The Moonweaver, the deity Molly looks up to. I also originally started writing this with fanart I was going to draw alongside it but I got very carried away and my art abilities are VERY limited.
> 
>    
> Anyway, hope you like it!

Lost moonchild of the night,  
oh, the bright and whimsical.

Welcoming as the light behind darkened clouds,  
peaceful as the falling of the day.

Wondering child of mine,  
full of wonder and awe,  
oh, how much you have grown.  
Cursed you were to learn how to live,  
crawled up from the empty stone.  
Cursed to learn how to live,  
but you only lived to help what was not your own.

And yes, from your companions to friends,  
oh, how much they love you,  
and how much you love them...  
And lonesome wizard,  
I hear your cries.  
Looking into lifeless eyes with longing thoughts now forever unsaid,  
“I should be the one dead!”

Now hold them close, my dear.  
For their memory will hide you from what you worringly dread.

But the fates are bound within palms you don’t recognise,  
dancing upon a buried life you deny that you regrettably fantasise. 

So lay your weary head towards the skies, child of mine.  
Forget what cannot be remembered,  
free from the suffering that troubles your care-free disguise.

You will be forever safe under loving arms,  
as your unblinking eyes fade to an untroubled grey,  
and dark crimson paints the floor where your body is set to lay.

Oh, my child,  
the bright and whimsical,  
my lost moonchild of the night...

But who knows,  
you may once again rise to discover the long lost day.


End file.
